


He's the Winter.

by duchessofdublin



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Insecurity, Kisses, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofdublin/pseuds/duchessofdublin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't believe he'd fall for you but he did and that sits heavy in your stomach. You hold a man's heart in your palm; it's pulsing, it's beating and you're screaming.</p><p>But you're not scared because he's there. He's always there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's the Winter.

**_Five_ **

Your breath stutters and you can’t believe it. He’s standing in front of you. He’s the beacon; he’s the source of the light. His eyes crinkle while yours widen. He’s the one? He’s the one to stop this. 

He cannot stop this. He knows too much. He’s tall. He slouches till his eyes level with yours. They’re blue with brown speckles. You are unable to look about. The punch hits; your breath vanishes. He hasn’t moved. He’s a statue unable to sway. His breath steadies as he spins. He grabs your hand; you try to run but he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love you. Don’t kid yourself.

He kisses you. The kisses are bitten just like his lips. They’re swollen and plump. They’re smiling and so are yours. His hand is sure as it grips your hip and you cannot gasp any louder. The silence is profound. The silence is there, swirling like a threatening storm. Your eyes darken matching the storm. You always do that. Always try to blend. You’re no good. No better, you try to stop the feeling but it’s spreading like chocolate on a cracker. Warmth and richness unlike any other is in your mouth. Why? He doesn’t know but he smiles. He’s always smiling. Why? You don’t know.

The heat spreads to your cheeks and you can’t stop the feeling. Why? You don’t want to. The clock is ticking, the winding hand screaming in the silence that surrounds you. Like he is; he’s always there, surrounding you in warmth and content touches. Why would he touch you? You’re small and weak. Too weak and he’s strong. Stronger then you’d ever be. He’s so strong he could break a rock with his large palms but he doesn’t. Why?  _Because of you_  he says. He doesn’t mean it. You try to believe him but you don’t. You can’t believe him.

He’s not pure. There’s nothing pure about him; he’s rough and loud. He’s everything New York promised to be. He was everything you needed. You cannot need him right now. Since he’s strong; he’ll survive. Will you?

No.

You won’t. You need him so you take him.

You’re so selfish.

**_Four_ **

He’s always there when you get home. You should be annoyed. You’re not. You cannot be angry when he stands and stretches, his bones cricking. Reminding you of his age; he’s old. Not in his body but in his soul. He’s different and loving. His soul is just the side of messed up. Just like you, always messing up, always letting down everybody. Dad, Rachel, Finn, Blaine, Mercedes but not him. It will never be him. He’s so forgiving; you don’t deserve him.  _Nobody deserves him_ your mind whispers but you’re bitter and lonely so you take him.

He takes you. Everything about you he takes. He grabs everything he can and just steals everything away from you. Your heart is his main prize. You should be angry but you never will be. Not when he has flour in his hair and he’s shakes it out like a dog. Just like a dog, dirty and loving. He picks you up all the time. You try to shout but you cannot raise your voice above a whisper as you stare down at him. He’s so beautiful.

He cannot drive so he runs everywhere, always jogging from one place to another. You try to tell him to stop this nonsense but it’s not nonsense. Nothing ever is with him. He smells of fresh sweat and something bitter. Almost like coffee but no, you hate coffee.

Ever since.

He smells like winter. He smells of the cold that will surround your fingertips, leaving them numb before moving onto your nose then your ears then your chest. He leaves your chest frozen in place; leaving the air in puffs around you. He’s the sweet calling of letting the cold take over but it never reaches. He would never freeze you. He’s too kind for that, almost too nice like a fresh spring morning that is then heavily gushed over by the pouring rain. He leaves you standing laughing as he drags his shirt over his head. He’s so beautiful.  _Just like you_ he whispers. You don’t realise you spoke out loud. Always doing stupid things like that. You shake your head minutely. Your breath stops as he drops to his knees to press his nose to your stomach. You can feel the coldness even through your loose jumpers. He’s now muttering.

You don’t know what he says but you catch _beautiful_  and  _mine_  and your heart thunders. The sound is profound in your ears and you can’t believe him. You don’t believe how lucky you are. You’re so lucky. No, not lucky but selfish. You’re taking his beauty and everything that he brings for yourself but you can’t stop. You never could when he comes to him.

He’s horrible and you hate him. You hate everything about him. Every last freckles and goofy grin, every last crinkle of skin and hum under his breath. You hate every last lost sock under the bed and in the bathroom. You hate his sugary cereal and his rude puns. You hate his morning breath and tickling fingertips. You hate his beanies that slouch over his eyes, the distasteful clothes that wouldn’t look good on a Grandpa and his bitten nails. You hate just about everything about him.

You hate how he’s making you whine now. Whine low in your throat as you’re on your back with him above you smirking smugly and just a little bit sadly.

You’re always lying.

You don’t hate him, you never could.

**_Three_ **

You wear his shirts sometimes. He’s not big but he’s large. He’s larger than you ever imagined. He wears his shirts bigger than himself so they’re loose on you. Everything he owns is loose. He doesn’t like anything tight;  _except you_  he smiles wickedly. You scoff but you feel the blush that wraps its betraying hands around your ears and neck. You blush a lot around him, you can’t help it. He doesn’t want you to either; he says it makes him  _feel wanted_.

You couldn’t have wanted anything more in your life.

You think of him fondly when he’s not there but you can’t stand him when he there. He’s always there. He never leaves; he leaves half empty tea cups everywhere. He leaves a trial behind himself. He practically lives here. You try to stop the grin at the thought. You can’t, you fail every time. He tries to draw you at times, you push him away but he keeps on trying till you give in. He draws beautifully. A tongue bitten his teeth, a brush held barely in his hand and a sigh escaping him every once and a while. You can never look away from him when he does this.

He always does this; you realise you never look away.

You should, he doesn’t need you. You need him but he doesn’t need you. You try to tell yourself he does but you’re lying again. You’re always lying.

There is one time he leaves. You’re screaming at him and he’s equally shouting back. You throw yourself at him and continue to rant into his chest, his hands locked around your back. He tries to sooth you but you’re like a caged animal and cannot stop  _screaming_. He tries to whisper nothings into your ear but you don’t stop. Then you say something horrible. It’s sickening how fast he steps back.

You fall silent.

He gives you time to take it back but you’re too proud. Always too proud. You stand with clenched fists and a quivering lip and he slouches with a dragged hand through hair and a leaves with an angry slam to the sliding door. You then break.

You cry. You cry snotty sobs as you try to run out the door but it’s too heavy and no matter how much your weak limbs fight the handle, it won’t budge. It’s sign. He left; he doesn’t want you anymore. You cry so long that you start to gag. You settle down feeling worthless and pathetic like a child.

No wonder he doesn’t like you, you’re child. He’s so beautiful and just look at you crying on the floor unable to stand as your legs feel like running water. You don’t care anymore. You’re lying again. You can’t stop your mouth. You keep whispering you’re  _sorry_  but are you really?  _Yes_ , you whisper stubbornly. You don’t believe yourself anymore.

It’s Rachel who finds you. She smiles sadly and she looks like she understands. She sits down beside you, dressed in a long red dress and dangling earrings. You vaguely remember she went to the opera with Brody. She looks lovely, you notice. She grasps your hand and you sit in silence. You calms down enough to rest your temple against her shoulder.  _He’ll return, Kurt_  she whispers. You long to believe her. She runs a fingertip down the back of your hand, you shiver. The red of her nail polish glitters in the artificial light reminding you of his favourite boxers. A sob lodges in your throat. You close your eyes.

When you open your eyes again, it’s in your darkened room. You feel the roughness of your jeans against the silkiness that is the sheets on your legs. You notice him. He sits at the end of the bed, hunched over elbows on knees. He didn’t notice you yet. The light that drapes from the moon is resting on his shoulders and his coarse stubble chin. You whisper out to him. He doesn’t move. You crawl to him till you rest behind him. You both hover. Him; hunched over and you raised on your knees and hand reached to touch but unable to. It’s him that makes the move. It always is, he’s so brave.

He leans back that last inch and presses your hand between his shoulder blades. You curl your fingers in his shirt slightly and stop.

You launch yourself to his back, pressing your nose his neck inhaling the winter; his large palm comes to cup the back of your head. He smoothed the rough hairs with his soft fingertips. You can’t speak until you do.

You whisper something you never said first to anybody into his neck, raising goose bumps on the skin.

He twists in your grasp and pulls you closer. He calls you an idiot with soft eyes and voice. He kisses you deeply leaving you sighing into the kiss. He says it back into the open between you when you finally part.

You feel content. An emotion uncurling softly in your stomach and you take a deep breath.

You’re okay for the first time.

He smiles.

No.

You feel better than okay.

**_Two_ **

He discovered a lot of your firsts. He laughed and twirled you around the kitchen telling you stories of what you would do together. You believed him and you laughed alongside him feeling flushed. He showed you how to make the perfect martini from his days of working as a barman part time, showed you how to sleep peacefully in a city full of noise; he showed you how to hold back the tears and how to climb to the top roof.

He once took you up one day as you sulked over something or another on the couch angrily flipping through a magazine; he hovered behind you before placing a  _Spiderman_  kiss on your pouting lips. You glared up at him and he dragged you out. You followed me. You’re so willing with him. He laughed and dragged you up saying he’ll protect if you went to fall. He looked very serious when he said this so you believed him. You believe in him a lot now. You trust him, disgustingly and blindingly. You trust him with your soul and you can’t get rid of him.

He won’t leave. Not like last time.

He jokingly pushed you towards the edge when you got to the top. You scowl and shoved back against him, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. You both looked out on New York City. It was perfect. The light blinding as the sun was beginning to set, the horns and yells of the ant like people below floating up, the shining reflection off the tall building windows. Nobody noticed you up there, far too busy with their own business to bother looking at yours. He began pointing out places he has memories from, his voice washing over you, warming you making you smile at his antics.

You turned in his arms at one point leaving his sentence hanging over your shoulder. You looked at him and him to you. You breathed in the winter and lean forward. He doesn’t disappoint, he never does. He kisses you fiercely seemingly to leave a mark. Of what? You don’t know. Possession? No. Hunger? No. Love? No.

Happiness? Maybe.

Just maybe you were happy with him. You knew you shouldn’t be, he was something  _else_. Something you shouldn’t touch but he grasped at you so tightly you felt like you were underwater and he was keeping you a float. He was your boat. He was your lifeline.

He taught you a lot of firsts. That day he taught you what having sex on a roof felt like. Trilling, leaving your veins pumping as you gasped out wordless cries into the darkening sky. No-one was paying you any attention. He was though. He seemed unable to look away. A droplet of sweat rolling down his temple, his hair a disaster, lips swollen and his eyes unblinking. He stared at you and you felt afraid by the emotion pouring from them. You felt them soaking in your skin, leaving marks. You couldn’t look away until you did.

Your neck snapping back as you let out a silent scream, his branding lips on your arched chest. You couldn’t look at him then but you did. You always did. He smiled lazily up at you, still moving. He was impossibly beautiful. He was impossibly yours. You come just as he whispers into your skin leaving it prickled with sudden goose bumps despite the heat from your close bodies. You should feel disgusted with yourself but your skin feels tight as you can’t draw a breath and your eyes tightly clenched. He comes, shaking and swearing. You laugh as he collapses on you mumbling from where his face is squished into your skin.

You call him old; he pokes you weakly in the side. You squirm and he rises to his elbows and looks at you.

The tightness leaves your skin as he brushes his fingertips against your cheekbones feeling the heat that is still there. He smiles softly and so do you. He says the words that only graced your ears; you say it back choked. He doesn’t tease you; the lines around his eyes deepen as leans down to rest his forehead against yours. You stared until his eyes blend into one. You both become one.

He whispers  _summer_  into air, his breath fogging.

You grin wetly at him.

You can’t stop smiling now.

You shouldn’t.

**_One_ **

Rachel didn’t approve of him. She seemed unable to forgive him from what he did to you over a year ago now. You blinked as she raved about him tearing you and her apart. You calmly point out Brody and now Finn who was back in her life.

She flushes and calls you a bastard; you smile and call her a bitch. She rolls her eyes.

You both drop the subject until she doesn’t.

She points out his flaws whether he can hear or not. You tell her to shush and you shove her away from the blanket that separates your room from the rest; he’s lying there in his boxers and reading glasses. He glances at you and winks. You smile back before walking after Rachel who’s now storming in the kitchen. You both begin to shout. She shouts about never being able to speak to you without him hovering around and you shout back that you’re happy with him hovering about.

You both shout things at one another till she starts to cry which sets you off.

You both stubbornly stare at each other, a tension sizzling in the room till she calmly says  _me or him_. You shake your head refusing to listen. The anger leaves you, deflating like a burst balloon. You refuse to believe she would do this but she does and she now won’t talk to you. She leaves taking a suitcase. You don’t know what to do so you hide in the bathroom. He doesn’t come and get you.

You don’t know if to feel grateful or spiteful. You settle on numb.

He doesn’t come and get you because he leaves. You didn’t notice because you’re crying in the bathroom. You’re pathetic. Rachel is the one who finds you again. You expected to see him and you blink wetly at her. She smiles and smoothes back your hair and tells you that  _you made the right choice_.

A right choice about what, you don’t understand. She sits beside you mirroring a position that she held almost sixteen months ago. You don’t understand. She smiles; you don’t.

Then you understand and you break.

You stumble to your feet and run blindingly to your room slamming through the sheets and staring at the messed up bed. You gave up making the bed after the hundredth time of him dragging you to mess up the sheets again. The memory was like a glass bottle breaking upon your chest. You hear her talking softly in the background. It sounded muffled as though hearing it through water. You don’t realise she moved until she stands in front of you gripping at your cheeks trying to get you to look at her and you do but your eyes are wild and the tears are blinding you. You hear her vaguely explaining. You finally snap to look at her when she says his name.

He left because he wanted not to come between you and her. You laugh wetly. That is exactly what he would do. You rip away from her hands; you snarl at her. She flinches but says it  _understandable_. You roar that she doesn’t know the meaning of understandable; you know you’re scaring her but you don’t care.

You just don’t care.

You run. You run to all his hidden places. He’s not in any of them. It’s the middles of the night and you don’t even wince from thugs and hookers but shove through them. You keep on running till you gasp up blood. You can’t stand anymore. You keep on running till somebody grabs your shoulder; you try to shove them off but the fingers dig in deeper. You turn to shout but stop at Finn standing above you. He smiles kindly and you sag.

You both return back to the apartment; you don’t bother to think of it as home now that he’s not there anymore.

Rachel begins rambling once you arrive, you sneer and she quiets quickly. You climb into bed. Your heart is thumping and you wait till you hear the furious whispers on the other side of the sheet die down and move off down the hall before moving. Your limbs feel stiff and painful. You bite your lip to stop from crying out; your hand touches something in the bed. You fingers are softly stroking before pulling it out from between the sheets.

It’s a beanie.

It’s an atrocious checked beanie but you choke back a sob none the less. You clutch it to your chest and try to calm the beating of your heart but it’s a fruitless attempt. Your breaths are uneven and you notice a puff coming from between your clenched teeth.

The fog fills your chest, feeling tight.

You feel frozen. You can’t feel anything.

So you stop.

**_+1_ **

You’ve almost graduated from NYADA before seeing him again. You’re rambling on the phone to an upset Rachel on the phone as she’s gets more riled up now that she’s pregnant. You don’t notice him at first. You blindingly order a coffee. You’ve begun to drink it again. You don’t like it but you swallow down a burning mouthful before turning. He sits at a table facing the window, his back is to you but you stop short.

Your heart squeezes painfully. You feel winded, the coffee trembling in your hands. He scratches at his head and turns seemingly able to feel your eyes on him. He stops and you go. You reach his table before he stands. You both stare at each other.

He looks the same but not. He looks more tired and his hair is equally messy but not the painful messy you remember twining your fingers through, his eyes are wide now although he’s trying to hide it.

He says your name and you try not to shiver. It’s rusty and deep, his accent more profound somehow. You wish to hear it again. You stutter out a reply before he stops you; his hand comes up to grasp your jaw his fingers under it; holding, and it felt like home. Your eyes flutter and you feel him take the coffee out of your hand. He asks you question; you nod jerkily looking at him through your lashes.

He pauses then seems to snap.

So do you.

You scrabble to his hair yanking him forward and he assaults your mouth, his tongue twining around yours before sucking it into his mouth. Your hands tighten and you feel, rather than hear him, his hum of approval. You don’t realise you're pushed against him until you hear the loud clearing of a throat and you pull back panting. Your wild eyes meet his and you laugh.

You haven’t laughed in a long time.

He grabs your hand and his belongings and drags both out of the café. You follow him so willingly. You always do. He asks you if you  _still want a coffee_ and shake your head, knowing you don’t need it anymore. He grins, eyes crinkling and goes to cross the road. You pull him back with the hand still clasped over yours and into a kiss. He laughs lips still against yours.

You mutter  _winter_  against his mouth.

You feel his cold fingertips stroking your sides even through your loose jumpers. Yours on his shoulder, he’s broader; you notice. You’ve missed him and you can feel his longing leaving his wringing hands, his fingertips are rough but gentle.

You sigh into his mouth.

You’re more of a tea man anyway.

****

**Author's Note:**

> So this is one of many and I mean many(!!) drabbles for my favourite pairing ever. I've three tabs opening with fics ready to be written as we speak.


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